


Dandelion Wine

by imbroke4louis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Past Romance, mild drug mention, sad as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbroke4louis/pseuds/imbroke4louis
Summary: It's been over a year since Louis' heart was broken by Harry and Louis still hasn't gotten over it, despite moving across the country, where he never expected to run into him again.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. December 1, 2015. 2:09 AM

Sometimes music can really hurt a person, Louis has learned. Even knowing that he still blasts every song he falls in love with-- or that reminds him of what falling in love feels like. Thinking back on falling in love means thinking back on feeling, and Louis finds himself constantly wishing he was feeling again.

Emotions aren't for everyone, though. Maybe certain people are supposed to feel numb. Maybe Louis is one of them. 

He thinks that might be true, but if it were, why did he have to go through something that felt like fire running through his veins and ice water over his head in order for him to get to a numb stage first?

He tried to move across the country, tried to drown out the hurt of seeing anyone he knew besides his best mate. Zayn moved a year before Louis decided to follow him out there, said that he needed to experience a world outside of their hometown. When Louis could feel, he always thought it was a rash decision, but now that he can't, he'd realised that it doesn't matter. And even though Louis still wakes up from dreams of fire and ice, he doesn't regret it.

What he does regret is being so vulnerable to another human being that wasn't Zayn or Niall. Niall didn't move with him, but he does know Louis better than anyone else. He was basically Louis' adopted brother, his family taking Niall in when his family wasn't what was best for him. They're still in touch, and they talk every day. Louis remembers how to feel when he talks to Niall sometimes. Only sometimes.

"Why are you awake?" Zayn asks from the bed he and Louis share most nights. His voice is groggy like he's not really awake when he's asking. Louis isn't sure if he even is so he doesn't answer, just blows smoke from his dab pen out the open window. Sure enough, when he turns to look at Zayn, he's swaddled in the blankets and is fast asleep again. He takes another hit, his brain feeling a little hazed.

Louis' mind drifts and all he sees are dandelions in the field outside the window. Dandelions don't grow here, though. He shakes his head, looking back out to find there aren't any dandelions. Thank God dandelions don't grow here. 

Zayn sniffles in his sleep again, and Louis climbs down from the windowsill and into bed next to him. He doesn't sleep, though, just lies on his phone for a bit. He goes through his social media, only ever checking it when he's tired. 

It's when he's going through his Snapchat stories that he feels he's going to be sick. His heart floods with fire first and he just sits in wait for the ice to start. The fire always lasts longer when he actually sees Dandelion, his beautiful chocolate curls twisting together, wrapping around Louis's lungs as he gasps for air. The ice starts in when he sees Dandelion's shining emerald eyes, the highlight of the sun bouncing off almost blinds Louis. Louis almost wishes it did so he didn't have to endear such beauty, the beauty that was never his to properly acknowledge. Just when he thinks his heart is about to give out, one last sharp burst of fire settles the ice. A warm, slightly uncomfortable feeling blankets his heart and his thoughts.

 _Oh, Harry_ , Louis thinks, _If only you knew._

Louis stares at the picture properly, seeing Harry sat outside in the grass, cross-legged, and reaching for the camera. He's laughing and his sunglasses are keeping back his hair. It's long now, Louis acknowledges, the beautiful tendrils landing just below his shoulder. The sun is out in the photo, and Louis sees it was posted nine hours ago by Liam, an old friend he didn't have the heart to remove after he left. He really should remove him, he knows that he's friends with Harry, but he doesn't post him a lot. Louis thinks about removing Liam every time he sees a picture of Harry, but he can never bring himself to do it. Maybe its because he still wants to know that his Dandelion is okay.

Or maybe he's a masochist.

Either way, he doesn't remove Liam and he clicks off the picture, locking his phone and putting it on the charger. He settles into the pillows and pulls the comforter to his shoulders. He sleeps finally, dreams only flickering by, glad that he's not haunted by happiness in the form of a dandelion flower. 


	2. December 23rd, 2014. 11:58 PM

Louis heard shuffling around his room as he blinked his eyes open, finding Harry standing over his bed, stripping himself of his shirt. Louis squinted up at him, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Harry jumped slightly when he looked down, seeing Louis was awake and staring at him, “No,” he whispered, trying his best not to laugh, “You aren’t supposed to wake up yet.”

Louis ignored the comment, too tired to understand what he meant, and started to scoot over, leaving room for Harry to climb into bed. Harry laughed at him quietly, but climbed into bed with him, immediately fitting into Louis’ arms and tucking his face into his neck. Louis kissed the top of his head. Harry had leaned back and let his eyes flicker over every feature of Louis’ that he could make out in the dark. Louis could always feel his heart soften when he and Harry gave each other looks like this. 

“Happy birthday, Louis Tomlinson,” he whispered, kissing his cheek quickly.

Louis smiled softly at Harry before glancing at the clock. It’s 12:02 AM. It’s the first moments of Louis’ birthday.

“Thank you, Harry Styles,” he whispered back, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Harry’s, “There’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”

Harry didn’t answer, and Louis didn’t mind, just sat in comfortable silence. He heard Harry’s breathing eventually slow as he fell asleep, still pressed against him and occasionally nuzzling into Louis. 

Louis felt himself draw closer and closer to sleep as he pulled Harry closer to him, if it was even possible to do so, and moved to rest his chin on the top of his head. He rubbed aimless patterns into the smooth skin of Harry’s waist with the tips of his fingers, feeling small pops of electricity running through them and all the way up to his heart. He opened his eyes for a moment, glancing down at Harry. 

He let his eyes trace over his features, feeling a surge of what felt like music run through his heart. He smiled softly, mesmerizingly running his fingers up Harry’s side and to his cheek. He traced his fingertips gently over his cheekbone, sighing softly as he did. He brushed them along his hairline and over his forehead and down to his nose.

“What are you doing?” he heard Harry mumble sleepily. He hadn’t opened his eyes to look at Louis yet, so he traced over Harry’s eyelids softly.

“I’m admiring you,” Louis chuckled softly, tracing over Harry’s lips, which were now formed into a small smile. He stuck his tongue out, licking Louis’ finger.  
“You have to touch me to admire me?” he asked, peeking one eye open and looking up to Louis’ face. Louis shook his head, bringing his pointer finger to smooth over the crease in between Harry’s brows.

“No, don’t have to,” he whispered, dragging his finger down the bridge of his nose again, circling the pointed tip lightly and humming, “just love doing it.”

“Well, it tickles,” Harry spoke, having opened both eyes at that point. Louis ignored the remark, continuing to trace his fingertips delicately over his boyfriend’s facial features, over the small scar on the bottom of his chin. Louis could feel the love he has for this boy radiating from his bones and into his bloodstream, pulsing through all of his veins and arteries straight to his heart. With each beat, he felt more and more aching love being poured out from him. He’s sure, at that moment, that no love anyone has ever felt, has been as intense as the love he felt then. 

They eventually fell asleep, Louis fingertips trailing over Harry’s face, eventually stopping and cupping Harry’s jaw, both of their breaths slowly evened out.

The next morning, Harry woke first, stretching out his arms above his head and groaning softly. He looked at the clock. 8:07 AM. It was time to wake Louis up.

He quickly rolled onto his back, out of Louis’ pliant arms, and looked over his boyfriend’s sleeping face, taking one of his fingers and tracing over the bridge of his nose, just as Louis did to him the night before. 

Louis didn’t wake up as Harry did.

Harry sighed and leaned towards Louis’ face, blowing cool air over him, giggling quietly when he scrunches his nose and wipes a hand over his eyes. 

“Morning, love,” Louis grumbled out, still wiping the sleep away from his fuzzy eyes.

“G’ morning, birthday boy,” Harry answered, patting at his chest.

“Time is it?” he asked sleepily, looking up at Harry, who had straddled Louis’ hips to sit on his lap.

“Eight something,” he hummed and brushed Louis’ hair out of his eyes with the pads of his fingers, “time to get up.”

Louis groaned but didn’t question it. Harry liked to get up earlier than he did, and he’d rather be awake with him than be asleep while Harry wasn’t. He sat up on his elbows and pressed a small kiss to Harry’s lips, “Gotta let me up first, darling.”

Harry kissed him back quickly, rolling off of him and onto the mattress before climbing off the edge of the bed and walking towards the foot of it. He kicked his shoes from last night out of the way and reached forward, grabbing Louis’ arms and helping him up out of bed, as he did most mornings. 

Louis felt his knee pop as his bare feet hit his carpeted floor. He looked up at Harry (he despised that he was so much taller than him) and scrunched his nose, “Ooh, did you hear that?” he asked, twisting his torso around to try and get his back to pop. It did.

Harry winced, “You’re getting old, now,” he teased, turning around and opening up one of Louis’ dresser drawers. 

“Oi, am not!” Louis huffed and reached down to pick up Harry’s discarded T-shirt from last night, throwing it at Harry’s back. 

Harry just laughed loudly and grabbed a dark blue sweatshirt from the drawer, throwing it at Louis’ face (“I caught it!” “It still hit you in the face.” “Just the nose.”) and grabbing one for himself. 

They talked about nothing as they changed and they continue to talk about nothing as Harry drags him upstairs. Louis still didn’t question this, he figured Harry wants breakfast from the kitchen.

Louis was right as they stepped upstairs and Harry immediately turned the corner into the kitchen, opening the cabinets and grabbing the cinnamon bread out of the cupboard. 

Louis’ mum is in the living room right next to the kitchen. “Happy birthday, boobear,” she said softly, cradling her coffee mug in her hands.

Harry looked around the countertops for the toaster, coming up short and Louis quickly opened the cabinet underneath the counter for him, showing Harry where it was before going to greet his mother.

Louis smiled at his mum, “Thank you,” he said, plopping down on the couch next to her and resting his head on her shoulder. She was wearing the same white cotton robe she always wore in the mornings, and her hair was pulled up in a messy loop at the back of her head. She didn’t have any makeup on yet, Louis always thought she looked prettier without it anyways.

She patted his cheek softly, “Do you boys have any plans today?” she asked, looking at Harry in the kitchen.

“Yes,” Harry spoke.

“No,” Louis hummed before looking towards Harry, too, “We do?” he asked.

His mum smiled softly and Harry did as well, “Seems like we do,” he hummed, bringing Louis a plate with the cinnamon toast on it. Louis takes it with a quirked brow.

Harry ends up taking Louis to the butterfly museum across town. And then to a ’50s themed diner next to it where they hold hands under the table and share a chocolate chip milkshake. And if Harry dropped to his knees in front of Louis in the bathroom just as they’re about to leave, no one had to know.

Overall, Louis had a really good birthday.


	3. December 23rd, 2015. 9:34 AM

Louis is on a train. He’s headed home to visit his mum for the holidays (and his birthday, but he hasn’t acknowledged that part yet). He had a three-hour flight early this morning and this train ride is the last of his journey to get to his old town.

His stomach gets more and more unsettled the closer he nears his hometown. He’s excited to see his mum and Niall, he really is, but the thought of being in the same place where he fell in love with Harry makes him feel like he’s going to be sick.

The train slows to a stop and Louis leans down to grab his duffle bag, hand wrapping around the strap and pulling it up to rest on his shoulder. He steps off the train and onto the platform, looking for a sign to point him in the right direction. As he looks at the walls on the train station, he feels a pair of arms crash around his torso. 

“Louis,” he hears a thick accent speak from behind him and he smiles to himself, turning around quickly and immediately hugging his friend back.

“Hi, Ni,” he whispers into his shoulder, pressing his face into his hair, “missed you, brother,” he hums, breathing in the familiar scent of Niall’s hair-- a mixture of lime and sandalwood.

“Missed you more,” Niall’s voice cracks and he pulls away, looking over Louis' face. He rubs a hand over his scruff, “You need to shave,” he laughs and pats his cheek.

Louis smiles lightly at him, “How’s Mum?” he asks, turning back to start walking out of the train station.

Niall shrugs, “Misses you a lot, she’s excited to see you, started making me help clean the house with her,” he chuckles, “She’s washed your sheets and remade your room like five times for you.”

Louis laughs lightly, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder, “Doesn’t surprise me one bit,” he shakes his head, “What about Bre? How are you guys holding up?”

Niall brightens instantly, “She’s great, excited to see you, mate. Said we have to steal some time away from Mum with you so we could light up.”

Louis’ heart pangs with jealousy for a moment. Niall and Bre have been together for about five years coming up, and Niall still lights up whenever he speaks about her. He remembers being that in love. He still is that in love. 

He shakes the feeling as they near Niall’s SUV (“You still got this mum car?” “A mum car that can still pick up your girl.” “Niall, I’m gay.” “Yeah, whatever.”). Louis tosses his bag into the backseat of the car, shutting the door shut and opening the passenger’s side. He sees the dark stain on the grey seat from where he spilled pineapple juice in their last year of high school. He climbs in, situating in his seat before grabbing the seatbelt and tugging it on, looking over at Niall to see he was doing the same. 

“Mum was making you breakfast when I left, by the way, so I hope you’re hungry,” Niall says, plugging his phone up and shuffling a Spotify playlist of his. Louis doesn’t recognise the song that comes on, but he doesn’t mind. 

He looks out the window as they back out of the spot, “Of course she was,” he laughs softly. His own laugh sounds so foreign to him. It’s not like he hasn’t laughed since he and Harry parted ways. He lives with his best friend, that’d be impossible, but he’s never really felt the smile reach his eyes, or the laughter actually shake his belly as he remembers. He remembers what it was like laughing with Harry, how he would toss his head back and he could feel the crinkles in his eyes deepen. He remembers the way Harry’s laugh would make him laugh harder, the way it would always come out in a scream and then die down into little giggles. Louis wonders if he’ll ever laugh as hard as he laughed with Harry.

He doubts it.

The train station isn’t far from the house, so Louis only has to suffer through Niall screaming through a few songs before he pulls into the driveway, his eardrums ringing. He looks over the small brick house, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him. It looks exactly the same as he left it. He unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car, grabbing his bag from the backseat and making his way up the steps of the porch, walking into the house with Niall behind him.

He’s immediately crushed by a pair of arms belonging to his mum. He hugs her back instantly, burying his face into her neck and closing his eyes, “Hi, Mum,” he whispers, attempting to pull away. She doesn’t let him.

“You’ve gotten so thin,” is the first thing she says to him, running her hands over his arms as she takes a step back to look at him. She looks concerned, so Louis smiles at her brightly, trying to reassure her. She doesn’t look like she buys it, but she smiles back at him anyways, “Go put your things in your room, I’ll make you a plate.”

Louis looks over to the kitchen behind her and sees chocolate chip pancakes, his favourite. He smiles at her again, leaning down to peck her cheek quickly, “Thanks, Mum,” he says before turning and heading towards the stairs.

He walks down the stairs and into his old room, seeing everything cleaned and wiped down. His lips quirk into a small smile and he sets his bag down on his bed, looking over to his dresser where a mirror sits on top of it. He looks over himself and sighs. He has lost weight since he was last here, his waist is more sunken in and his arms look thinner. 

He looks at his face, leaning in closer to the mirror. I look like shit, he thinks to himself. His eyes look more sunken in than usual, the bags under his eyes appearing darker and more purple. Louis grazes his fingertips over them and sighs softly. He runs his hand over his scruff and he notices his cheeks are also sunken in, making his cheekbones more prominent.

He shakes his head, looking at the top of his dresser and seeing an empty wooden vase sitting there, dust collecting around it. His mum didn’t move it when she wiped down the surrounding areas. He sighs and grabs the vase with his left hand, wiping the dust from the dresser with his right. He lifts the vase up in the air above his head, looking at the bottom of it. 

Louis’ fingertips graze over the carved “L+H” on the underside and he feels his heart shrink. The vase is suddenly too heavy for his hands to hold and he drops it, the wooden object hitting him in the head before it falls to the floor. He winces and grabs his head, closing his eyes tightly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking to the mirror again and seeing a small red mark. There wasn’t a cut or any bruising yet, from what he could see, but it still hurt. He rolled his eyes and picked up the vase again, placing it back in its spot.

He quickly heads back upstairs, seeing his mum and Niall already at the table. There’s a plate at the table where his old spot used to be. He sits down beside Niall and smiles at them both, picking up his fork and cutting his pancakes with it.

“How’s Zayn, sweetie?” his mother asks, picking at her blueberry pancakes with her own fork.

Louis swallows before he answers her, “Good,” he says, “don’t pretend you don’t call him to check on me,” he teases, taking another bite. 

His mum shakes his head and Niall laughs around his pancakes, doused in syrup, “I don’t call him to check on you, I call to check on him.”

Louis smiles to himself. His mum has always been the mum to take care of everyone. When Niall would come over and tell Louis all the horrible things happening at home, his mother would never pry, but just simply be there whenever he needed. It wasn’t until high school that Niall finally opened up to Louis’ mum and told her everything while Louis was in the shower. The next day, she went out and bought new bedding and set up the guest room to be Niall’s. Years later, even after Louis had moved out, Niall still lives here, and Louis’ mum still takes care of him.

Louis looks to Niall for a minute, who catches his stare and smiles at him with a mouthful of pancakes. He smiles back, his own mouth stuffed. Niall laughs and almost chokes. Louis feels like he’s okay for a moment.

But just as the moment comes, it passes. Louis feels his heart constrict on its own, triggering a small memory in his head.  
It’s just a flash, a fleeting moment where he sees Harry’s smile, wide and dimpled. He feels happy for a moment, but the smile he sees fades, and he no longer remembers the feeling. Maybe he just isn’t meant to be happy without his Dandelion.


End file.
